


One of Us

by marsakat



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heathens (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Prison, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Murder, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsakat/pseuds/marsakat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The others shrink away from the two partners-in-crime.  Terrified of the black paint, the glares, and the whispers of what they're capable of.  <br/>Tyler and Josh have a Plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the music video came out, so there's some differences, but I hope you enjoy

_Lips pressed against broken skin as if kisses could heal the damage done_  
_Only actions can fix the future_  
 _Fingers try to wipe blood that wasn’t theirs off tearstained faces_  
 _Relief_  
 _It was over_

That first day he sat in the corner of his cell screaming until his throat bled and they dragged him to a psychiatrist for evaluation.  He quickly fell silent and answered all questions with a haughty attitude that riled the officers, but not enough to declare him mentally unstable.  He returned to the cell block and the others eyed him with confusion and fear.  They liked predictability, used to the routine.  This stranger was far from meekly feeling out the new environment.

There are the big guys that come into prison acting like hotshots with something to prove.  They flexed and snarled their dominance until they learned their place by getting jumped where the cameras couldn’t see.  This man wasn’t interested in power.  His eyes glowered with an intensity that hypnotize, but snarling, he drove away all that approached him.

Some of the dumber inmates tried to corner him in the shower on day three, assuming his thin arms and shrill voice would make an easy target.

 “Take it slow,” he warned, as if he could smell their intentions.   The steam curled around him, They didn’t listen.  They were in the hospital ward for a week, too terrified to speak of what he’d done to them. Coldly, methodically, he moved with purpose until they were left bleeding. 

He hummed and gestured to his shadow to follow him from the spray of water.

 _Motel rooms and miles put between them and what transpired_  
_It was all better now_  
 _Safe_

He was purposeful in his actions to intimidate; acquiring black paint from somewhere—even the most experienced of COs couldn’t find his stash though they turned over the whole cell three times.  His hands and neck were coated perpetually.  They gave him a cell to himself after terrifying the three murderers that were supposed to share a cell with him.  He spoke to no one, not seeking conversation with anyone besides the other that had come with him.  The insular two were so isolated; at meals, at leisure time, work hours, etc that no one knew if they were together before or the painted one had made him his bitch as soon as they entered prison.

One gossipy guard confirmed that the codependent pair were literal partners in crime.  It made sense to the rest.  Loyalty among thieves is oft discredited, but when you’re among the wolves, you have to know who has your back.

The two kept to themselves on the yard.  It was a beautiful sunny day after a week of dreary rain, and most prisoners had their shirts off.  As secluded as they tried to be, they too had the jumpsuits rolled to their waists, revealing tattoos and scars.  The black paint dripped down a tanned chest and the one with hair dyed by Kool-Aid stolen from the kitchen eyed him with hunger in his eyes.

“Stop it, Josh,” muttered the screamer.  He didn’t appear to be doing anything in particular, but Josh could see him studying.  He surveyed the groups of men, studying the gangs and affiliations.  Prison was full of subtle or not-so-subtle politics, and figuring it out was key to their survival.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry.  It’s not your fault,” His voice was kinder, more forgiving when there was only Josh to hear.  “Just remember our plan.  Remember what we learned.  These people” and he waved his hand across their field of vision, “Don’t take kindly to heathens like us.”

Josh wondered if he meant the inmates, or the guards, or both.

“Then why do we look like freaks?  Tyler, that’ll just draw attention to us,” Josh scuffed his shoe on the dirt.  He’d been directed to smear red paint around his eyes.

“The Plan.  The Plan,” Tyler said calmly and Josh sighed.

Tyler was serener than Josh had ever seen him act before.  Sure, the other prisoners were scared of him since he appeared so unstable, but Josh could see through the act.  His savior—‘that’s blasphemy’ Tyler would insist—knew what he was doing.  ‘It’s not ideal, but we’ll make it work’ Tyler had promised.

His own three cellmates tried to be friendly, and didn’t seem all that bad.  They invited him to join in on card games and asked questions about his life, Tyler, and what was their crime.  Josh had to remind himself that now was not the time to make friends, though it was lonely and scary for those hours he had to be away from Tyler’s keen eyes.  He’d wake up in a cold sweat, sure he’d called out in his sleep from the memories that plagued him.  The older man who prayed five times a day to Allah looked empathetic and the kid in the bunk above him had eyes that showed he too understood what Josh went through.  But Josh didn’t talk to them.  He wasn’t allowed to look weak or break down in front of these people, Tyler had drilled that rule into him.

‘Save your tears for the rain’ Tyler whispered in the days right before they came here.  Josh had woken, screaming in Tyler’s arms regularly at that point.  Tyler didn’t scold him for his flashbacks or breakdowns, “Watch it, watch it,” he’d press his thumb into Josh’s wrist firmly, grounding. 

They couldn’t do that here, couldn’t fall asleep wrapped around each other.  Now they were locked up, they’d go to the showers, and Josh would let the tears fall with droplets hitting his face.  Tyler would also have his face in the stream next to him, though Josh never knew if Tyler cried too.  Blackness would swirl down the drain and it’d be time to reapply.

“Better?” Tyler asked, touching Josh’s cheek tenderly, the first time they had physical contact with each other since getting locked up.  “We’re alone.  Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Josh nodded, feeling the brush of Tyler’s lips against his, his nerves already on fire before Tyler was quickly pulling back.  Doors opened, and they could hear footsteps of other prisoners—time for Tyler to return to his character.  Josh watched him shut the light off behind his eyes, whole face darkening and angles becoming sharper.  A chill danced up Josh’s spine; fear at what Tyler was capable of, a sense of safety, and maybe just a hint of arousal.

“Going so soon?”

Tyler had indicated to Josh that it was time to leave once he noticed some men who were members of the gang that the three prisoners he’d attacked were a part of.  While most people had been avoiding the two, this group had loudly said they were ready to take their revenge. 

Tyler’s eyes darted quickly around at the throng of bodies moving underneath the showerheads—not everyone was part of that gang, but it was hard to keep track of who he needed to watch for.  A tall man was blocking their path, but he definitely had friends nearby.  No one ever started a fight alone.  Tyler sensed Josh close behind him, shifting nervously.  Tyler wondered exactly how surrounded where they.  Was a weapon about to jab into his kidneys?  Would they attack Josh first?

He tried to draw himself up to his full height, still falling a significant amount of inches short.  Clenching his jaw he tried to sidestep the instigator, but he continued to block the door. 

“C’mon you piece of shit.  You think you’re better than us? Too important to talk?”

Tyler didn’t want to talk to him, but he also didn’t want to push the man out of the way, knowing that would start a fight.

“No one is better than anyone else,” he replied, but it was obvious nothing he’d say would make the situation any better.  There were many eyes on them now, tensely watching to see the next move.  Tyler policed his face to stay blank, calm.  Josh moved to his side, looking around carefully. 

“Four more,” Josh muttered, counting the ones that looked too eager while cracking their knuckles.  There were too many people watching, too many minds recording this, Tyler didn’t want them to see—

“Just let us through,” Tyler said steadily, “we checked our guns at the door, no need to make this any worse.”

The man pressed every button he could find, “Know your fucking place, little bitch. You—” he pointed at Josh, “On your fucking knees.  Looks like you need a better fucking than what this faggot is giving you.”

“That sounds pretty gay for someone calling other people faggots,” Tyler couldn’t help himself and his big mouth, though he’d been working on control.

If one knew what there is to know about Tyler, one would wonder why he didn’t just stop the man swinging a fist at his face yelling “punk ass bitch”.  But the man wanted the fight more than Tyler could prevent it. 

He let the first two punches land on his face, and then a third to the gut before Tyler was curling over.  He was winded—he didn’t like fights or pain, but he had to play along at least initially.  Actually he would have continued further, let more blows rain upon him—marking his face and scratching his skin, if the other minds Josh had alerted him to hadn’t started to make their intentions.  Best end this before he was weakened.  Two of the gang were reaching out to Josh—ready to throw him to the ground, kick him until his blood stained the tiles—no, that will not happen, Tyler’s mind screamed and he looked into the eyes of the instigator and **Commanded**.

“No.”

Everything stopped, and Tyler screeched with the weight of all those minds forced frozen.  He’d never done anything like this before.  This was more than he could handle—he was slipping—

“Tyler?”

There he was, Josh always grounding him when he needed it.  Tyler would never do this to him, he promised.  He could hear static and screaming and beeping while wind rushed through him, but Josh’s hands pressed against his face and it all jarred back into focus.

Tyler took a deep breath and nodded at Josh who looked terrified.  He shouldn’t be afraid anymore, he’s here to protect him.

It was easy now to break skin, bust noses, and crack bone while the enemy, now victim, were silent and unmoving.  Tyler and Josh worked together, sending all those who’d moved against them to the floor battered and wrecked.  By the third person whose wrists they crunched and knees they popped, it was no longer sickening.  Tyler shivered in anticipation to feel the tendons scream under his hands, and hear the sharp crack. 

He wanted to see bones.

He wanted more blood. 

Josh on the other hand was slowing down—feeling ill from the dull thud of a shoulder snapping out of place under his hands.   He’d rather hit soft skin, scratch symbols with his fingernails.  He couldn’t work like Tyler, there was too much sympathetic pain in his body to inflict that much damage.

Tyler saved the tall man for last—hands still raised in mid-punch, face twisted in a growl.  Tyler shoved him to the floor, smashing his face against the tile until teeth and blood made a pretty splatter down the shower drain. 

“Stop!  Tyler, please!”  Josh cried out.  They weren’t supposed to kill, this wasn’t part of the Plan.  Tyler ceased mashing the face to a useless pulp.  He shouldn’t have gone that far, should’ve known Josh would’ve been triggered by the violence.  He’s losing control, losing control, losing—

Destruction is easy, building is harder.  Too many witnesses, too many questions if they left the scene as is.  He focused hard—not the first time he’s fabricated memories, but again, never at this scale.  The minds were easily impressible, and Tyler felt like he was floating as he forced the images of a ‘normal’ fight into their minds.  Tyler concluded he must be drunk on power, senses heightened and he could feel guards approaching the showers.  Undoubtedly they must be coming for rounds, maybe even checking on why no one had left the shower in this time.  They must notice that the normal flow of the day had been cracked.  It’s easy to tell when something is different in such a highly routinized place.

They had mere minutes.

“They’re coming,” Tyler turned to Josh who looked panicked.  Tyler hadn’t been able to update him on the fake memories, not enough time to assure Josh they’d be okay.

“Oh God, oh God, they’re going to send us to solitary confinement.  They’re going to question us.  They’re going to separate us,” Josh pulled at his hair with hands covered in blood.  Tyler looked at his own hands that were drenched.  The aches sharpened into stabbing pain.

“I think I broke my fingers,” Tyler said detached, starting to lose a little control over the minds. They weren’t waking yet, but they were close.

Josh kissed his knuckles.  Tyler couldn’t tell if Josh was wet from the shower still or those were fresh tears upon his cheeks.  He wouldn’t **let** them send Josh to be isolated—knew Josh feared closed spaces, being completely alone where anyone could—he wouldn’t be able to survive.  Tyler wasn’t shielding him if he lands both of them in the hole.

“I’m sorry, I know—I know I promised I wouldn’t ever do this, but it’s for your own good,” Tyler said with a heavy heart.

“What? Ty—”

“Go to sleep,” Tyler whispered this **Command** and Josh slumped, caught in Tyler’s arms before he could hit the floor.  He was deadweight, and Tyler’s arms shook as he guided him down.  He brushed the hair out of Josh’s eyes, studying his peaceful face before drawing his shattered fist back and punching him hard.

Got to mark the skin, make an alibi.

The footsteps in the hallway outside was cue to Tyler to let go of everyone.  There was rustling and panicked voices quickly raised in volume at the six figures scattered on the floor, Tyler kneeling next to his other half.

He didn’t fight the guards as they tossed him facedown next to Josh, strapping handcuffs on his wrists.  There was so much shouting as they dragged him, painfully twisting his shoulders and dropping him defenseless on his knees a couple times. 

He was thrown into the cell that cut off most sound, his body aching and victory hollow.  He was trapped.  Had he made the right decision?  The Plan could change.  Now everyone would not question their power.  It felt good.  He felt like a god.  He was a god.  All those minds, those people bending to his will.  And he took those men apart like it was easy.  His hands could get stronger next time.  Next time.

He would rule this prison with an iron fist.  What is the sense of escaping? Josh and him—

Josh.

He’d left Josh alone.  Put him unconscious, bruised his skin.  He said he wouldn’t and he did and Josh was defenseless right now.  Maybe he should’ve let them put Josh in solitary.  At least he’d be nearby.  At least no one would be able to get at him.  Tyler was his shield and he was alone now.

Josh was alone.

They were going to go after him now Tyler would be locked away for who knows how long.

Josh was alone.

Josh was alone.

They were going to attack him.  Rape him.  They were going to kill him.

All Tyler’s fault.  All Tyler’s fault.

Josh was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler sings and remembers. Josh copes. They're alone

Josh woke up alone.  It fell more like slipping out of a deep sleep, with a little confusion to how he ended up on a stretcher.  But he quickly remembered blood on the tiles—watching Tyler break bone…helping Tyler hurt those people.

But those men would’ve hurt them, and Josh was done being a victim of stronger, violent people.  He’d had enough.  The dried blood around his fingernails was the mark of taking back his life.  While he didn’t enjoy violence, he’d been taught that it was necessary to survive.  And he wasn’t mad at Tyler for using his powers on him.  Promises just hold people back from adaptation.

A doctor came into the room to check him out, while two guards took his statement.

“In your own words, what happened?”

Josh knew to play dumb, “I dunno.  We were just trying to leave and these guys jumped us.  I don’t really remember much.”

“Is that where you got that shiner?”  The guard pointed and Josh’s hand flew to his aching cheekbone.  He’d wondered why it was hurting.

“I—I guess so.  One of them punched me and then I was waking up here,” Josh sighed, and tried to ascertain if the guards believed him.  “What happened to Ty—to Joseph?  Is he okay?  Where is he?”

“Inmate 258779 had to be put in temporary disciplinary segregation for fighting.”

“But they attacked us! He was just defending himself,” Josh said heatedly.

“No back talk—or you’ll be joining him,” The more hotheaded of the guards said.

“That’s why we’re gathering information about what occurred.  If our findings are consistent, he’ll be let out,” Both guards stood and motioned to the doctor to assess Josh.  “It’s just hard to understand how he was able to take on five gang members by himself.  You know him well—does he have any professional fighting background?”

Josh shrugged.  Better not to open his mouth.

So he was alone.  Tyler was in solitary and Josh was friendless among the wolves.  Maybe it would’ve been smart to make some allies, but now was just a little too late.  Josh, in a fit of weakness, begged the doctor to let him stay overnight in the hospital ward, but he was cleared to return that very day.  It was nearly lights out by the time Josh was in the general population again, and he skipped dinner to hide in his cell.

But bars for doors make the worst barrier when prying eyes seek to find him.  They leered at Josh as he huddled in the corner of the bottom bunk.  He fought with himself—don’t look small, don’t look weak, but no—hide! Hide!  He was failing the Plan.  Tyler was going to be so mad at him.

“Hey man, are you okay?” a voice whispered as soon as the lights were turned off.  Josh’s bunkmate, the boy with the sympathetic eyes was peaking over the side of the mattress, watching him worry.

“Yeah,” Josh tried to keep his voice steady.  He wasn’t weak.  He was strong—Tyler told him he was the strongest person he knew; kissing his bruises and poking his muscles.  Josh had been told before he was pathetic, that he couldn’t survive on his own, but Tyler promised him that he wasn’t anything what had been told before, what had been yelled or beaten into his brain.  Though soft, loving encouragement is often not powerful enough to bleach cruel words that had been so expertly enforced.  Besides, how can Josh do this without Tyler here?

“How’d he do it?”

“Dunno,” Josh didn’t know who the rats were, and if this boy was for the gangs or the C/Os.

“They took him to solitary?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you,” The kid’s voice wasn’t harsh, in fact Josh noted it was soft and matter-of-fact, “I know you two have this ‘spooky thing’ going on, but it’s gonna be very hard to keep it up with him not here.  And it’s not like you got in good with anyone else.  I’ll show you around.  Have you meet some of my people.”

“Nah, that’s okay.  I don’t need—”

“Yo, Spooky man, you need me or else they’re gonna kick your ass and fuck it afterward.  You don’t know when your friend’s getting out of the hole.  C’mon, let me help you.”

Josh fell silent.  There’s always strings attached.

“No strings attached,” the voice said.

Lies.  People always want something.

“We don’t want anything from you.  All my friends are—well we just are tryin’ to survive here.  We wanna stay out of everyone else’s way, and I think you do too.”

Josh wished it was darker so the guy’s eyes wouldn’t be able to read every expression on his face.  He needed time to think, but maybe this would work better for the plan.  Make allies.  Get to know people better.  Save his own ass—metaphorically and literally.

Josh nodded, and the boy’s eyes lit up, “M’name’s Theo by the way.  I don’t know yours, which is funny cuz we’ve been sharing this cell for—”

“Josh.” He was making his own moves.  Josh was in the game now.

* * *

This time, Tyler didn’t scream until he felt the telltale blood drip down his throat.  Instead he sang; melodies from his childhood days, songs from a church he hadn’t attended in years.  Lyrics he invented on the spot or else had dancing in his brain for a long time.  He sang for himself and he sang for screaming crowds that weren’t there, who repeated his words back to him.

The guards hit the metal door with until the clanging drove Tyler into a corner, clutching his aching head.  They didn’t want him to sing—singing was a sign of happiness, freedom.  He wasn’t allowed to be either in here. Tyler sat in silence, but for his fingers dancing over the cement wall, playing a piano that wasn’t there.  The notes were in his head and they couldn’t take that away from him.

Tyler taught himself piano way back when, and he’d had big dreams then too.  He loved making music, craved its necessity from getting him from one place to another.  It centered his brain when everything became too overwhelming, when his powers started manifesting.  Tyler needed the music like air to keep his mind from attacking himself, the migraines making him weak and ill.  He got strength from knowing he could make something, driving away the pain of being isolated from the world.  Because he didn’t know how to cope, didn’t have someone to ground him.  Yet.

_Tyler doesn’t drink.  He just likes being at this bar on Tuesday nights when there is nothing else to do and the appetizers are half priced.  He eavesdrops on his neighbors.  To the left of him, it’s always a different group of people and it is fun trying to figure out what they’re here for.  Maybe a first date, or a group of high school friends reuniting to catch up and reminisce.  Sometimes it’s a person by themselves just like him and he feels friendly enough to strike up a conversation.  But usually it’s him alone with his iced tea and loaded potato skins._

_On the table to the right is always the same group of five—two women and three men.  It was like watching a television show Tyler didn’t like, but always tuned in to see.  They were kind of douche-y; making off-colored jokes and sarcastic, bitter remarks about their significant others.  They never caused a ruckus, but listening to them week after week established they weren’t the type of people Tyler would want to hang out with.  He knew their names, jobs, and lots of personal details about their lives, but Tyler would never go over and introduce himself like he did with the table to his left on occasion._

_But then **he** showed up.  _

_The other table inhabitants were complaining long before the last guy, Felix showed up.  Apparently he was going to bring his boyfriend along, and while the group liked the boyfriend, it was in violation of their weekly tradition.  Tyler had heard Felix talk about his significant other before, even listening in on several loud phone calls in the bathroom (Tyler had followed because he was curious.  Felix called the boyfriend at least once each night, which struck him as odd since he deduced they lived together)._

_Tyler was good at judging people and Felix was his least favorite.  Something about his voice grated on Tyler’s nerves and the condescending way he spoke to the waiters when mad.  Tyler had even seen him drunk a few times, which was definitely excessive for a Tuesday night.  His friends had pulled him out of the bar before he got violent, which took all four of them since he was around six foot four and pretty muscular.  His hair was buzzed short on the sides and had a tattoo on his arm of a dragon. Nah, Felix wasn’t his least favorite.  Tyler despised him._

_“Hey guys, what’s up!” Felix cheered loudly arriving fifteen minutes after his usual time, “Sorry we’re late, Joshie here took a long time getting ready.”_

_Tyler’s first impression of Josh was a figure in all black; beanie, long tank top, jeans—bulletproof.  He was just another character in this play, and Tyler assumed he’d be a douche like Felix.  But Josh was quiet, the dragon draped around his shoulders as Felix boisterously told some story that made a blush rise to the newcomer’s cheeks.  Tyler didn’t even hear the story, too busy trying to assess the shadow half hidden beneath the beanie pulled low._

_It was as if all sound was muted, muffled.  Tyler watched Josh’s face slip smoothly from embarrassment, to contemplation, to smiling and laughing at a joke, to hints of worry and anxiety as he eyed Felix next to him.  Tyler found himself standing when Josh pushed back his chair, saying he needed to use the restroom.  Tyler gave him a head start and then followed him in, needing to feel this mind alone, and see his face in brighter lights._

_Josh was looking into the mirror when Tyler entered the bathroom, and he fumbled with the beanie he’d removed.  His hair was green and washed out—dye that was nearly gone.  The shadow was in fact a bruise on his temple, and Josh tugged the fabric back over it.  Tyler’s heart clenched as he merely brushed against Josh’s mind and felt the fear._

_Felix’s shouting phone calls made sense.  The knuckles that whitened as fingers dug into Josh’s tattooed shoulder as the latter did something the bigger man did not like.  The way Josh looked to that face to see if he was wading into dangerous waters.  The quick rise to violence when inebriated.  The strange limp or wincing when Josh moved the wrong way.  It all added up._

_And Tyler wanted Felix to die._

_Because not only did he feel Josh’s dread.  It wasn’t just Josh’s mind he felt.  In that quick touch, he felt Josh’s soul and it was home._

_Josh completed him.  And Tyler needed to save him._

* * *

Josh followed Theo to the cafeteria the next day, and he explained the prison dynamics to him in an undertone, “So the main gangs we got are the Aryan Brotherhood and La Eme, and they’re cool with each other so there’s not been too many brawls lately except for people that pissed either of them off.  And you two fish got into it with the AB so you’re both probably on their shit list.  If you don’t watch your back you’ll be three knee deep.”

“They tried that already.”

“Yeah and you guys fucked them up good.  But I’m thinking—with your road dog in the hole, you’re gonna be a lame duck if you don’t get with us.”

Josh understood about half the slang but context clues told him he was screwed if he didn’t find protection right away.  At least Theo was knowledgeable.

“How long you in for?” Josh asked, trying to adopt the air of rough syllables, and pretty certain he was failing miserably.

“Two more years.  Been in for six.  Robbery and drugs.  You?”

Josh shrugged, “Twenty.  But parole.”

“Shit man, what’d you do?”

“Killed a man.”

“Did he deserve it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, then.”

Theo introduced him to his group, his ‘car’ as the term goes, all sitting around the rectangular cafeteria table..  They had an assortment of colorful nicknames and Josh noticed that maybe they weren’t the biggest and harshest of the prisoners; they were bruised and cut up, a few were spindly and definitely punks and bitches.

“This is my celly, Spooky, and we’ll be showin’ him ‘round here.”  And with that Josh was christened into their group.

* * *

_“Hey, something wrong? Ouch, that looks like a bad bruise,” Tyler feigned ignored, but his voice was full of genuine concern._

_“I’m fine,” Josh’s voice cracked and his breathing was rapid, “Sorry, I’m just having a little freak out.  It happens.  Sorry.”_

_“Dude, don’t worry about it.  I get them too.  I know it’s tough to talk to a stranger, but I can help you.  Whatever you need,” Tyler hoped he didn’t scare Josh off, but the green-haired man looked grateful as Tyler pat him gently on the back.  He was leaning over the counter, no longer staring into the mirror, but taking labored breaths while staring into the sink.  His hands were clenched into fists and shaking slightly.  Tyler hummed a little and guided Josh through some deep breaths._

_“You okay now?” Tyler asked as he watched Josh’s shoulders relax._

_“I think so.  Sorry.  Thanks.”_

_“Please don’t apologize.  I’m Tyler by the way.”_

_“Josh.  You come here often?” Josh turned and they were finally looking eye to eye, and Tyler found the warmest shade of brown he’d ever seen._

_“Actually, yeah I do.  I just like people watching.  I promise I’m not creepy!” Tyler laughed nervously. Josh smiled and Tyler wanted to see that every second of every day._

_“I get you.  It’s cool to see people and wonder what their lives are like.  What happens behind closed doors.  What are their secrets?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_A ding from Josh’s pocket and he dug out his phone.  Tyler watched the smile slip off his face._

_“Uh, gotta go.  Weird request—if you could wait like a couple minutes before leaving the bathroom, that’d um, help me out.”_

_It was definitely Felix.  He was probably suspicious. Tyler didn’t want Josh to get in any trouble because of him._

_“Yeah of course.  See you around?”_

_“Sure,” Josh gave a quick grin, “And thanks, again.”_

_Tyler counted 300 heartbeats after the door shut before he moved back to his spot to watch protectively over the man he knew he was going to fight for with everything he had._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've looked up a lot of prison slang for this.  
> if you can figure out what 258779 is code for...idk maybe you win something. I haven't decided


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All my friends are heathens.   
> I'm a heathen.  
> Ruin everything I touch
> 
> (tw: please read the tags and stay safe)

It was very useful to be part of a group, even though these guys were not scary or truly capable of protecting Josh as well as Tyler.  Strength in numbers only goes so far, and if anything, he noticed the way some of the other prisoners eyed them like prey.  Josh even came across a few of their group getting fucked by those predators; once in the laundry room, and another in the showers—an arrangement they had found was necessary for survival and obtaining goods.

Josh just wanted to be invisible until Tyler returned, though he noticed people watching him.  The AB were making threats and leering at him to the point that Josh didn’t go anywhere alone, avoiding the showers as much as possible.  Theo or another person that had befriend him would make a casual joke about him smelling, and only then did Josh wash at top speed  Being on the yard or in the cafeteria was hell as comments were thrown at him from all directions, even some hands coming up to grope and touch.  Josh came into prison already flinching at any sudden movement, too used to being hit to always react so defensively, but now any approaching person was a threat.

He tried to keep a cool exterior, attempting to maintain the scary aura that Tyler had cast like a spell around them.  And it worked to some degree—or maybe the other prisoners were too scared of Tyler’s eventual retaliation.  Josh learned the politics, even joking around with new people.  Allies—he didn’t want Tyler to return to find Josh didn’t do anything to help either of them. 

On the inside, Josh was terrified.  He’d mutter encouraging phrases to himself, as if he was just trying to pump himself up for a baseball game.  As if it was all just a game, and not decades of impending imprisonment.  There wasn’t any Tyler to tell him to hold back the tears, and God—Tyler hadn’t been away for long, he needed to get stronger, tougher or else he’d always be someone else’s plaything for the rest of his miserable life.

It was his entire fault after all.   People may say Josh was just following Tyler’s crazed possessive plan, but Josh knew the truth.  He blamed himself for dragging Tyler down with him.  Because of the two, he was the doomed one.

…

Tyler could feel the seams being stretched as everything fell apart.  It was only him and his awful, painful mind for 23 hours a day, every day.  No one else to distract him to the point that phantom laughter would echo in the wastelands of his brain.  He was hungry, but the food tasted like sawdust, choking him and running poison into his veins.

He had stopped performing for invisible crowds, even the good parts about being alone were being overwhelmed.  Tyler hadn’t realized how much he had _needed_ other minds to stay sane within his own.  And he missed Josh.  He spent hours on ended worrying, wondering what was happening on the other side of the concrete walls.

They’d never had a ‘good time’ in their relationship for Tyler to think longingly about.  The closest they’d gotten to was when they were on the run, but even then there was never-ending fear.  Their faces were on all the news channels, reminding them of what had occurred while Josh was trying to recover.  It was almost a relief to have the SWAT team storm into their motel room—pointing guns at their kneeling, surrendering forms.  At least they didn’t have to run or hide anymore.

_He didn’t see Josh for three weeks after that first meeting, and Tyler vigilantly went to the bar every week hoping he’d be there.  Relief coursed through him, quickly followed by anger—the bruise on his cheek was essentially gone, but there were new marks.  Green-yellow around Josh’s pretty eyes; over a week old, Tyler estimated._

_“A bar fight.  Can you believe Joshie would pick a bar fight?  He gets so stupid when he’s hammered, right?” Felix had explained away squeezing unworthy hands into Josh’s side.  He winced—Tyler wondered how bad the hidden bruises and cuts were since even his exposed face was injured.  Tyler knew from their brief mental contact that Josh wasn’t the type to start bar fights, but Josh was looking at Felix with something in his eyes that was between devotion and trepidation._

_‘The Honeymoon Phase’; Tyler had done his research on abusive relationships over these weeks, needing to be armed with the information to help Josh.  The time when the abuser was making up for the last beating, trying to convince and manipulate. That it will never happen again._

_But Tyler knows what that means._

_Again they ran into each other in the bathroom, this time Josh wasn’t having a panic attack.  He hummed a little and smiled at Tyler.  They talked benignly, and Tyler tried to figure out the best way to worm his way into Josh’s life.  But wouldn’t Felix be suspicious of any new friends?  Tyler followed them home—he was getting good at sneaking around, but it was an advantage to be able to block all surrounding people from realizing he was there._

_Tyler looked up all the cafes and coffeeshops within a five-block radius of their apartment, and for the next week he spent an hour at each, rotating between them until he caught sight of a mess of green hair as a bell ringed signaling an open door.  Tyler wrestled with the need to stay hidden against his plan to make more contact, but Josh spotted him first._

_“Hey!  You’re that guy from the bathroom.  I mean—hi, um, Tyler.”_

_“Oh yeah.  Josh, right?  Weird to run into you here, huh?”_

_“Well, they’ve got the best coffee,” Josh indicated his drink, “Whatcha writing?” He gestured to the journal sitting shut on the table._

_“Songs. Poetry.  Nothing too interesting.  I come here for the aesthetic.”_

_Josh laughed, “Mind if I sit down?  Kinda just killing time.”_

_Tyler gestured to an empty chair, heart racing at just how easy this was.  Not only was it comfortable to talk with Josh, but the latter seemed very interested in him.  Josh listened intently, asking about Tyler’s childhood, musical interests, favorite video games.  It was fun.  And—_ Tyler reflected now, it changed the whole mission.  It wasn’t just about saving Josh because he was a victim.  It made Josh into a person with dreams and a right to pursue them.  And Tyler thought he deserved so much more than what Felix did to him, and what he, himself, had caused.

…

Josh needed purpose. He had to have responsibilities that anchored him in the day-to-day rather than in constant fear of being attacked. It was monotonous to wake, eat, hide, sleep; Josh couldn't do that for twenty years. So he got a job in the laundry. Even though it was always steaming, making his hair curl and covering him in a layer of sweat—it felt like get cleansed every day. He was excreting the toxins that had absorbed into his soul, cool water purifying as he rushed to the shower afterward. Josh was being reborn. Remade.

Josh was becoming his own person. He shared more, frowned less. He had his own money now to buy from the commissary, usually getting the shitty coffee or bars of candy, of course saving some for Tyler when he got out.

Theo had heard through a friendly C/O that Tyler would return to the general population within the next few days, Josh's knees weakening and his heart leaping with relief.

"What will he be like when he comes back?" Josh asked.

"Probably gonna be a bit fucked up. He's been in the hole for awhile, and even the most normal people go a bit," Theo twirled his finger by his head, "When they're left alone for so long."

Maybe for once it'd be Josh taking care of a vulnerable Tyler. He'd made so much progress, Tyler would be proud of him. Josh progressed The Plan along this time--he wasn't as weak as was written on his bone in old breaks and bruises.

Josh bought a new deck of cards from the commissary, since Jones' last battered deck was stolen by some nasty gang members. In the few hours before lights out, Josh learned how to play poker. Cigarettes, candy, soap, money scrawled on paper scraps were their chips, and stories passed with each hand.

Theo was there for burglary and assault; he broke into his stepfather's house to steal back everything that had been taken from his family.  Then he beat his stepfather for all the times he’d hurt Theo’s mother and siblings.  Beat him until he was comatose and choking on his own mashed throat.  He hadn’t died yet, but Theo was waiting for that day.  Josh shuddered at the story, but he understood.  Oh God, did he understand.

“I killed my abuser,” whispered a boy of barely nineteen who never spoke.

They all had their stories.  Stealing only what they had needed until caught, voices telling them to do things they otherwise wouldn’t have if they could afford their meds, accidents they regret every day; a lifetime of adversity that landed them in the safest hell they could’ve found.

They didn’t have his story, at least not verbatim, but theirs could’ve been his.  They were all one in the same; Josh was finding his people.

…

_Tyler waited outside the window of the ground floor apartment that always kept the windows slightly open.  There was a little area he’d crouch for hours, obscured by the garbage cans—Tyler got used to the smell quickly as he kept vigil.  He’d been listening for months now, not even daring to peak over the sill and look inside.  No one knew he was there and no one had asked him to be the silent defender.  He told no one, least of all his new best friend._

_There’d been so much he had overhead the past weeks, as if he was observing a reality television show of a couple, but one not made pretty for the cameras.  There were the normal comings-and-goings; to work, to the store, out with friends, family visiting.  The couple spent nights curled up on the couch watching movies, listening to records while kissing elegantly, or just residing sleepily together—a quick peck over a morning bowl of cereal, or silent hours just doing each their own thing.  That’s not what Tyler was here for, in fact, it drove him sick with want and anger._

_There were the little comments—if one wasn’t looking the tiny barbs would barely be noticed until they drove like wire around the throat of the victim.  Tears would pour down the cheeks of the green haired man as the hooks turned in shouts and raised fists; reminding him that he was weak, he was unlovable, he was lucky to have him—he who was so good to overlook all his flaws and stupidity._

_“_ No, give me a minute.  You’re hurting me _,” Josh would sob as hands would push him to the ground and make him pay for the privilege of being his boyfriend.  “_ Let me breathe for a moment.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry _,” his pleas would turn to stifled gasps and then silence as he bore the fee quietly, knowing there wasn’t anyone to save him now._

_Tyler had tried everything he had within his abilities, which are greater than most.  He had cornered Felix in the very bathroom he first made contact with Josh.  He found the mind immutable, hardened, and Tyler found himself aching with a bloodied nose after finally releasing Felix to join his group unaware of what had occurred in the bathroom.  Tyler had never tried changing something so at the core of a person, and if anything, he found Josh screamed more that night than any other before._

[You need to leave Josh.  You will realize you two should break up.  You have fallen in love with someone else.  You will leave Josh.  You will not hurt him anymore. You will not hurt him anymore.  You will not hurt him anymore]

_So Tyler just used **Suggestion** , which worked for a little while, a band-aid that was losing strength each time it was used.  What had been a month of comfortable living for Josh turned into a week, and then just days.  And Tyler was terrified because since he started to meddle, it appeared the abuse was only getting worse._

_Their friendship had grown through afternoons meeting at the coffeeshop, Sunday night movie or video game nights, text message conversations late into the night—Felix asking Josh suspiciously_ what the hell he was laughing about _while Tyler crouched underneath their bedroom window.  Through his surreptitious observation of Josh; at night and during their casual hangouts, Tyler concluded Josh’s smiles were most real around him._

_And Tyler didn’t rearrange Josh’s mind, didn’t **Tell** Josh to run away.  He couldn’t explain why not; just there was a wall that told him that would be the wrong move.  He left Josh’s mind intact, let him make his own decision, only interfering to ease the burden upon him._

_So though it broke Tyler’s heart and soul every night to hear stifled whimpers and feel the impression of_ painhurtingsorrow _from the connection they’d established, Tyler would be there no matter what.  He slept only when Josh was safe; at work, or Felix away.  Tyler was getting in trouble for drifting asleep standing up at his own job, but with a few tweaks of his powers, he was able to avoid being fired.  He felt ill most of the time, but it was nothing to him._

_He wasn’t just watching the apartment, he was doing as much as he could.  Sending calming, soothing feelings to Josh as he was shoved face first onto the mattress, changing what he could of Felix’s actions (an open-handed slap that stung rather than a closed fist that bruised, guiding him to use lubricant instead of minimal spit, loosening his grip, making him forget to speak with words that cut harder than the paperclips he scratched along Josh’s back)._

_Felix was a sadist, and Tyler enjoyed, when lying awake for the few hours respite he was allowed, to imagine slicing open his throat and watch the evil essence pour out._

Tyler started to scream.  He was so glad he did it.  It was deserved.  It was necessary.  Josh would’ve died.  He didn’t care that his life was ruined and that he had no future besides prison.  Prison or on the run.  As long as Tyler and Josh were together they’d be okay.

He was going to get them out.

He was going to do it.

…

In a woodshop, you must never get complacent.  You must always fear the machines, because the moment you get comfortable and drop the mental barrier of 6 inches away from all blades, is the moment you find yourself without several fingers.

Josh didn’t know that valuable lesson and how it applied to trying to survive in prison.  Things had been going too well recently, even with Tyler in solitary confinement. Josh had gotten comfortable, believed he was out of harm’s way, maybe even protected.  He should’ve guessed that gang members have long memories and were waiting for him like wolves circling outside the circle of protection.

They came into Josh’s cell during free time, eight of them and yanked him from the top bunk where he’d been napping. Josh could only shout “No!” as they slammed him to the ground, and then all he could see was stars and taste blood from where he bit into his cheek.

He’d been beaten too many times before to care anymore about the damage inflicted to his vessel.  Josh let himself drift away as someone hit his head with a broom they’d stolen, remembering the first time Tyler and him kissed; _he was still with Felix.  He was alone in Tyler’s apartment after a particularly bad fight; Tyler had left him a key in the soil of a dead potted plant that waited by the front door.  Tyler appeared just a few minutes after Josh had arrived, not explaining where he’d been that late at night, nor why the knees of his jeans were so dirty.  Tyler gave him one look and somehow he knew what had happened.  Josh didn’t know at the time about his powers, but he could sense there was something—_

The men were yanking down the pants of his prison uniform, teasing the broom along the inside of his bare thighs.  Laughing, calling him names.  Josh had to fight now—he drew the line at this.  Let them beat him but he was going to claw their hearts out if they were going to try and violate him again.

He’d rather die.  He hoped he died once they pinned him, his thrashing not enough against so many stronger bodies.

“You’re our bitch now, bitch!” yelled the one holding the broom and there was a new person yelling for the guards right outside the door.

“You little fucker—” Alarms started to sound and heavy booted footsteps began to approach.  Arms released Josh who frantically crawled into a corner.  There was grunts and cries of pain as the people in his cell fumbled and rushed away.

He was safe.  Josh had been rescued again.

Tyler?

_Tyler hadn’t waited for an explanation, just wrapping him in his skinny, boney arms.  Josh had no tears left, hadn’t ever told him about the abuse, but it was known between them.  Josh felt so safe with Tyler—as if Felix didn’t exist.  As if he wasn’t waiting for Josh to turn up back at home and call him a dirty whore for spending the night away.  Sleeping with trash, because he was dirty, he was disgusting.  A cheater—so why not make it true?_

A body thumped to the floor, and Josh was having trouble seeing through bloody, swollen eyes.  He crawled to the body.  No, don’t let it be.  His rescuer was dying, a dark pool of blood beginning to spread and the guards weren’t fast enough to save him.  A dagger carved from a toothbrush stuck out of his jugular.  It was too late.

_Tyler lifted Josh’s chin to meet his eyes, and they were so close.  They were connected by threads Josh couldn’t comprehend._

_Make it true._

_Josh surged forward to ignite the sparks in his dying heart and remember, oh—this is why I’m living._

Theo lay dead upon their cell floor, and Josh added him to the list of people dead because of him.

He screamed.

Elsewhere in the facility, Tyler turned to face away from the door, letting the guards slap cuffs upon his wrists.  He was compliant.  He was going to be set loose upon the general population again.

He was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took long enough sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wind on my face  
> your lips on my cheek  
> my lover, why are you so cold  
> why are there flames in your eyes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise

It was like breathing fresh air after being smothered for so long one didn’t realize they were breathing in their own recycled air.  Tyler didn’t realize how wrong it felt to be locked away from others—so many minds to push and mold.  Tyler was a sculptor and he nearly ran his hands across the clay while he walked towards his cell.  He was acting before, but now, now he was that character.  Tyler tried to keep the smile off his face, but the muscles couldn’t help but twist upward.

Josh’s cell was stripped bare of belongings from the four inhabitants, the antiseptic smell perfuming the walkway.  A nagging in the back of Tyler’s head questioned where Josh had gone, but he cast it away to consider later.  He could feel all the eyes upon him, hear their thoughts; wondering if he had been broken, curious to how he’d done it, and a few who were plotting his demise.  Tyler was ready for them.

He waited in his cell until his hunger called him to the cafeteria.  He spoke to no one, just took the food handed to him and sat at a table that called to him.  The most mournful of the lot that begged for a leader, a guide to watch and protect them.  He was here for that role, sitting down in the middle of the table and smiling, ready to heal.

They were scared of him at first, which was understandable.  He had become an inscrutable, intimidating figure, and people’s voices hushed while he passed.  But Tyler could protect all these people.  He’d saved Josh already.

Josh.

Where’d he go?

He kept up pleasant conversation, putting **Friendliness** behind his voice and gradually the little group warmed up to him.  Self-deprecating about his time in solitary confinement, they gave him updates about the prison.  Tyler made notes on the names most mentioned; realizing he’d missed out on the big picture of the ebb and flow around the prison.

Tyler also found out about why Josh’s cell was empty.  He took the news of the incident steadily, schooling his eyelids not to twitch and hands to stop shaking.  Josh was alive at least.  They had moved him to another building and that was why he was nowhere in sight. But that was not what Tyler needed.  He was back; therefore Josh was safe under his eyes again.  He had to make some big maneuvers quickly before Josh was made to be someone else’s bitch. 

He made promises to Josh that needed to be upheld.  He also made an unspoken pact with his knot of followers that they were to be protected too.

* * *

_Sweat cooled on their skin as they lay side-by-side on Tyler’s bed.  It’d been too long since Tyler had last been with someone—his mind had been so consumed by Josh.  It’d been too long since the latter had felt this loved during sex—too used to being used._

_“_ I think I’m in love with you, _” Tyler confessed, running his fingertips in the scarred grooves along Josh’s hip._

 _“_ Please.  Don’t be _,” Josh’s eyes were closed, “_ I’ll ruin you.  I destroy everything _.”_

 _“_ I don’t care _.”_

* * *

Josh was only in the new cellblock for eighty-seven hours before he found himself being marched back to his original home.  There could only be one explanation for the sleepy way the warden addressed him, explaining with no reasoning that it would be best for everyone if he returned.

Tyler was magical, Josh was convinced.  He knew about the powers; Tyler had told him as Felix’s life dripped out of him and onto the kitchen floor.  Tyler was a chess player, moving pieces into place.  But was Josh his king or just a pawn?

They didn’t bring him to his old cell, instead treading the path directly to Tyler’s cell, where the dark eyed angel waited for him.  As if this was an appointment—Josh realized now that it was, he was just the last to know. 

“Hello sunshine,” Tyler smiled briefly and Josh shuffled his feet.  Tyler was sitting on one of the two beds crammed into the too-small cell.  It really was meant for just one, but it dawned quickly on him what Tyler had done, “I would say you’re looking good, but ah, sorry ‘bout that.” 

Something was wrong, Josh’s lover wasn’t acting right, was talking funny.  Josh had been warned, but this was like tiptoeing through a minefield.  He never before had worried about setting Tyler off before, emotional scars forcing him to tense in fear.  Tyler would’ve kissed his bruises and cuts and told him that he would tear apart those people that hurt him.

“C’mon, babe.  Make yourself at home,” Tyler gestured to the empty bed and Josh tossed down his belongings.

“I saved you this,” Josh offered a candy bar, and Tyler took it, brushing and lingering across Josh’s palm.

“You’ve been working hard without me.  Thank you,” Tyler took a bite and looked up at him, “Yes.  You have been busy.  I’ve met your…friends.”

Josh’s breath caught.

“You did well.  The Plan is moving on.”

“They are what you wanted after all,” Josh mumbled and sat down next to him.  Boldly.  Tyler gripped his knee and it felt like handcuffs clicking shut.

* * *

 _“_ You slut— _slap_ —Where the fuck were you last night? I was so fucking worried,” _Felix’s yells drifted through the open window and Tyler crouched, ready to spring, “_ You cheated on me, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

_There was a long pause and a crash as Felix undoubtedly broke a plate on the ground.  Josh wasn’t denying the truth._

_“_ I’m so fucking sick of dealing with your bullshit, Joshie,” _Felix’s pet name was spit with venom,_ “I try to be better.  Try not to hit you, but you keep pulling this shit and I’ve fucking had it.  I’m done.  Don’t ever fucking call me and don’t be a little pussy bitch and beg for me to come back.  Because we’re fucking over.”

 _Felix stormed into the bedroom—Tyler guessed he was packing a bag.  Josh’s voice was sad, regretful,_ “I’m sorry I wasn’t what you wanted.”

“I thought you might’ve been.  But you’re a piece of shit, okay?  Don’t ever fucking call me whining about how badly you need me.  Stupid fucking whore, good luck finding anyone that’ll fuck you this good.”

_Josh’s body was slammed face-first against the wall—Felix groping at his waistband, but Josh gave a quick backwards kick that sent his assailant tumbling to the floor._

“Get the hell away from me,” _Josh’s voice was shaking._

“Get away from you? I wouldn’t touch your dirty fucking skin again, bye bitch,” _Felix stormed out, hopefully forever.  Tyler caught view of him with a full backpack, heading in the opposite direction._

_He was gone, and Tyler chanced a glance through the window.  Josh had slid down till he was sitting with his back pressed against the wall.  He seemed too numb to cry; was it relief or regret that threatened to spill over?  His phone was out—he was texting—no, he was calling—Tyler._

_Tyler sprinted away from the window before answering the call; he was so close to getting caught._

“He’s gone.  He left me,” _Josh said by way of introduction._

“I’m so proud of you,” _Tyler’s heart swelled.  They didn’t need drastic action._

“Please come over.  I need you.”

* * *

Tyler leaned in and kissed Josh, who stayed still, the training of a survivor who needed more information to read the mood of their lover.  Tyler didn’t seem concerned, nibbling a little on Josh’s bottom lip and drawing back to smile at him. 

“Baby, I’m so proud of you,” Tyler said, leaning in again to whisper into Josh’s ear, “It’s been really rough so far, and it’s probably going to get bad.  I’m gonna have to do some things I’m not proud of, but just remember, Josh…I’m doing it for you.”

Josh nods, Tyler’s breath tickling the hair at the nape of his neck.  His voice is soft, and Josh thinks of a tiger prowling and ready to pounce.  He doesn’t like being called baby, he’s very much broken but he doesn’t want Tyler looking at him like that.  Like he’s weak.

“This is for you, baby. I’m sorry for what I have to do, but just remember I love you and we’re going to get out of this.”

Tyler pressed a soft peck to Josh’s cheek that felt cold and ominous.

“Now let’s go out and put our Plan into action.”  Josh followed Tyler out of the cell.  It was lunch and everyone will be watching their next moves.  Tyler was the most interesting person in this whole penitentiary and everyone will be vying for either his protection, or revenge.

Showtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been written for many months, I just haven't gotten around to finishing this chapter. I'm back to writing it though so expect an update soon.

**Author's Note:**

> teeentyonepilots on tumblr. Send me prompts!


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